The Excuse

“Do you have any idea what time it is, young lady?” demanded the shadowy figure at the table. I squinted as the kitchen flooded with light. Every inch of my mother twitched with anger, from her curlers to her fuzzy pink slippers.

“I know it's late. I had a flat tire where there wasn't a working phone,” I began.

“Likely story,” my mother huffed. She got up and waddled over to me. She glared into my eyes, her stale breath blowing in my face. “Have you been drinking?”

“No, Mom,” I sighed as I tried to skirt around her. She blocked me again.

“You were with that guy again, weren't you?” she demanded.

“Oh, God no!” I cried. She stared hard at me.

“Please, Mom, let me explain,” I begged, hoping to end this so I could escape. “I got a flat tire, had a horrible time fixing it, and didn't call. Dad will be pissed when he sees the tire and the jack, but I swear I haven't been drinking, smoking anything, or seeing that guy. I'm sorry. I should have called. I screwed up, but not in the way you think.”

My mother narrowed her eyes and considered my argument for a moment. “Whatever,” she finally said. “You're still grounded for a week.”

Upstairs, I breathed a sigh of relief as I closed my bedroom door. As I got out of my muddy clothes, I thought about my mother's fears for me – drinking, smoking, fooling around in the backseat with that horny idiot.

If she only knew, I thought grimly as I washed my face, the blisters on my hands stinging from the soap.

Digging a grave for that jerk had been harder than I had thought it would be.

Word count: 300